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Rolf Becker/personal log
2087, April 3:My ship was irrevocably damaged in landing on this desolate and forbidding world. Food and water stores were lost. My leg is injured but it looks like it will heal. I'm able to scout the immediate area. Luckily, the water in the nearby river surrounding this plateau is potable. Food is going to be a bigger problem. It looks like I'm stranded. I should' ve quit when I was ahead. ;2087, April 4:There were animals rummaging outside the wreckage of my ship last night. I didn't see them but there are animal tracks all over the ground. If they'd been any moe curious, they'd have found me. I'll try to find a safer place to sleep tonight. Leg is a little better but I'm getting hungry. ;2087, April 5:Discovered a room atop a nearby cliff of apparent Heechee construction. There's all sorts of electronic equipment in there I don't recognize. I spent the night there last night. It's quite a strenuous climb to the room and the condition of my elg, which is improving, makes it even more difficult to reach. I'm really hungry now, though I've found a few roots which seem to be edible. ;2087, April 10:The roots weren't enough. I remembered that most Heechee machines contain actuator cells that can be used as weapons and successfully removed one from one of the Heechee panels. I used it to kill a horse-like creature I found grazing in a nearby valley. Man, that cell went off like a miniature cannon! As I was flaying the beast, I became so sick and disgusted that I buried the creature's carcass just west of the trailhead leading to my ship. I buried the actuator core with the beast so I wouldn't be tempted into using it again. Roots will have to do for now. The next 105 pages are dissertation on the diurnal patterns of various animals of this planet ;2087, December 17:Life here is actually getting quite bearable. I've found some other edible plants and gotten pretty good at collecting enough water to last several days at a time. My leg is almost completely healed, so I'm only limping a little. The weather here is pretty predictable, although a bit on the hot side during the day. I haven't seen another of the horse-like creatures since I murdered one many months ago. I miss Adriana. A lot. The next 69 pages are a discussion of tidal and diurnal patterns observable in local flora. You resume reading from page 178: ;2088, February 3:I'm spending a lot of time looking for plants to eat. Most of the stands of edible vegetation have been picked clean by now, and I find myself going on longer and longer hikes to find enough food to eat. I'm going to have to start growing my own, so I've put a lot of energy into trying to make clay strong enough to make pots out of. There's a vent from the planet's interior west of the meadow that could be used to fire pots if only I could come up with some good clay. You proceed to the next entry on page 179 of Becker's engrossing personal log ;2088, February 20:I'm starting a separate journal, a field notebook of sorts for cataloging the many plants and animals I've come to know on this beautiful world. So, all entries relating to my botanical and zoological research will be made in that book and I'll reserve this log as my personal journal. The next 6 pages are a collection of poems and personal musings. You resume reading from page 185 ;2088, June 1: Success! I found a combination of minerals from which to make decent clay. I mix mud from the nearby chasm's riverbed with a purple ore I've mined from deep within the tall mountain south of the meadow. I built a strong pickaxe from various pieces of my ship that helps immeasurably with the mining. I covered the hot vent with rocks and have fired a few strong pots so far. Pretty soon I'll have a full-fledged garden. These activities are keeping me quite busy and I'm really enjoying the challenge of survival on this planet. The next 13 pages ar a treatise on the virtues of a solitary life. You resume reading from page 198 ;2088, October 17:Whenever I'm lonely and tired from toil I go to bed early and dream dreams royal -R.Becker The next 9 pages are a collection of hand renderings of plants and animals. You resume reading from page 20 ;2089, April 3:Two years here and no sign of a rescue in the offing. Just as well, I suppose. Lately I've got to thinking that my life as a Gateway pilot was pretty empty. I was risking my life for wealth and fame and, having gotten both, was completely unsatisfied. On the other hand, since I've been "stranded" here. I've become a happy person. It's quite a puzzle. I wonder what Adriana is doing right now, if she's given up all hope that I'll return. She's probably in the arms of some other foolish pilot at this very moment. ;2089, April 18:It looks like I've mined all of the purple ore that there was and I've only made about forty pots. They'll have to do for now. I'll continue mining for the ore at other sites but I'm not optimistic. There's a kind of plant growing near the mine where I found the ore that I haven't seen anywhere else. Perhaps if I find another of those plants, there'll be ore nearby. Meanwhile, I've begun growing plants in earnest and my field notebook is becoming filled with data about indigenous plants and animals. I've named this planet Adriana 1. The next 15 pages are a another collection of bad poetry. You resume reading from page 223 ;2089, June 2:Two suns in the sky Would be sad if one would die Sometimes miss home but more often don't I'll be gone soon enough but thing's 'round here won't -R. Becker You proceed to the next entry on page 438 of Becker's engrossing personal log ;2098, July 15:I'm an idiot. I accidentally dropped my walking stick off the edge of the plateau overlook. It bounced off the canyon walls as it fell and wound up in plain view beside the river at the bottom of the chasm. I guess I'm going to be doing without it from now on. Damn! The next 4 pages are a yet another collection of bad poems and personal musings. You resume reading from page 442 ;2100, January 1:New years day, 2100. Big whoop. The next 8 pages are a failed attempt at mapping the Nemiran sky. You resume reading from page 450. ;2100, December 8:It came to me suddenly as I was rummaging around for recently fallen timber near the river: A boat made from wood would allow me to explore the chasm and retrieve my walking stick. I'm beginning tomorrow. It should only take a few weeks to build it. The next 39 pages are a somewhat successful attempt at mapping the Nemiran sky. You resume reading from page 489. ;2101, March 28:Determined to retrieve my walking stick, which would make a good general purpose cane, I built a raft and tiller from the branches of fallen trees. My shipbuilding skill wasn't up to snuff. The vessel isn't seaworthy. It takes on water too quickly for me to steer and bail at the same time. Maybe I'll find some naturally occurring reason to seal it with, but I haven't seen anything like that yet. With this effort, my attempts at exploring the chasm have also been brought to a halt. The rest of the journal is comprised mostly of bad poetry and personal reflections of Becker upon his navel. Category:transcriptions Category:Gateway